I can't talk. My throat feels like it's made of sandpaper. Every so often I feel like I'm going to throw up.
I hate being sick.
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"When you wish for so long that you could hear something," he said slowly, "and then suddenly, with no warning, you do, it is like a lightning strike and rain on parched ground at the same time. You're stunned, but you cannot hear enough."
1 comment:
I'm sorry. I'm sure it's from all those Brayden kisses, he has a tendency to pass those sick germs around. I hope you get better soon.
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